The Nature of Memory

[Bloggsworth]

You kissed me once, Heather Denton;
near your father’s coal-shed,
somewhere between the rhododendrons
and the rest of my life; since which time
I have been confused as to your intention.
You may think it odd that,
some sixty years later, I remember -
I didn’t think I had, but today
I saw a rhododendron of exactly the same shade.

Is that any better?